I hate dying
by Dellinah
Summary: Kenny always dies and comes back. He's ok with that. What really upsets him is the fact that nobody seems to remember his deaths. But one day, when he's thinking about that, he runs into Butters and finds out something that neither of them is ever going to forget. (Kenny/Butters). One-shot.


**I was going through my documents here on FanFiction and found this one. I started this forever ago but only now decided to get around to finish this. This is my second South Park fic, but my first Bunny story. I love this couple so much, you have no idea. My only regret is that this couple deserved a better story than this.**

 **Oh, well. I hope you enjoy this.**

 **By the way, WhoNeedsNormality is to blame for this. She's the only reason I ship Kenny and Butters in first place. Thanks for all, WNN.**

* * *

I hate dying.

It might sound like a funny sentence; but it's something I say almost every single day of my stupid life. And every time I say it, I feel the most pure hatred running inside my body.

I hate dying. I hate the awful prolonged pain that usually precedes the death itself. I hate being a spirit for an unknown amount of time; just roaming around knowing that nobody can see me, all alone. I hate waking up alive again with pain in my bed, feeling like I was dragged by a car that was being driven by a drunk blind guy that couldn't find his way to hell.

I despise everything about dying and coming back. But what I hate the most, the one thing I would change if I could, is the fact that nobody remembers it when I die. I wake up and it's like I had never left. And my deaths are just so unexpected and absurd that I doubt anyone has ever cried over any of them. I wish I could ask them if they ever cried over my deaths, but they wouldn't remember.

When people wake up the next day, they don't remember anything about my deaths; not even with my numerous funerals.

It makes me so angry; and somehow sad. I don't like to admit it, but it feels lonely. And loneliness does a hell of a good job in changing someone. Now I'm seventeen, failing school, drinking more than I should and trying to fill the void inside me with meaningless and short relationships. I can't say I'm happy, but well, nobody cares for my happiness. Or for me.

My parents really don't care for me at all. I could die and they wouldn't even notice I'm gone. In fact, I think they've done that before. And surely more than once. I still have my friends; and luckily they didn't change much since we were kids. I would never say it out loud, but they mean the whole to me. Without them, I would be looking for a way to make my death something definitive. However, there were things that did change. Stan and Kyle finally admitted to be faggots and started dating. I used to roll my eyes every time one of them would come to me and ask about how they should reveal their feelings for each other; it was so fucking obvious.

Cartman refused to hang out with them back when they revealed to be dating; but that was expected. I really didn't mind them, I mean, I'm pansexual myself. I'm a whore, actually, and more than once my promiscuity was the cause of my death. But it started to feel bad being the third wheel when I hung out with the couple, so I just convinced the fat boy to let it go. He still annoys the hell out of me every time we hang out, but at least I'm not left alone with a happy couple anymore.

These are some of the thoughts that go through my mind as I stare at the ceiling of my room. It's around midnight and I don't feel like sleeping. I reach out for my phone with a cracked screen and look for Kyle's number in my contacts; but don't hit the call button. After thinking better, I realize he must be asleep by now; or doing something with Stan. Or both. I drop the phone on the floor and stare at the ceiling again.

I don't really want to be alone. I don't like to be alone. I keep this to myself because I don't want others to think I'm asking for pity; or to call me a weak faggot. I just wish I had someone on whom I could rely, is that too much? Maybe it is. I'm miserable; perhaps I don't deserve anyone that actually cares for me like Kyle and Stan care for each other.

I let out a heavy sigh as I stand up from my bed and grab my orange parka from the floor. It's pretty much the only decent article of clothing I have; that being the reason why I wear it even if it's hot outside. I'm glad this night is a cold one, so I won't sweat like I do when I have to wear it under the sun. I open the squeaky door of my room and go to the living room. The house is dark and empty; my parents must be in the meth lab they keep on the basement. My siblings must be sleeping or something.

I walk without worrying about waking someone up. Even if they see me leaving, they won't care. They won't even ask what I'm doing or where I'm going. Some would say I'm lucky, because they hate it when their parents keep them from going out; and I must admit it's pretty cool to have this freedom. But sometimes, I just think it'd be nice to feel what it's like to have someone caring for what happens to me.

I leave the house with my hands in my pockets. I feel a cold wind and pull my hood over my face until it's covering everything except my eyes. Then I start to walk, directionless. I don't know where to go; I just don't want to be at home right now. I could go to one of the clubs where they know me pretty well, drink until I pass out and wake up tomorrow feeling like shit. Maybe have some meaningless sex to forget about my existence for a few minutes. Sounds like a plan to me.

I started to walk; the crunch of my feet in the ground is the only sound to be heard. I can barely see a thing, once that in my neighborhood we don't have much public illumination. We used to, but after it became a place to sell drugs all the addicts moved over and now it was common to see they breaking everything when they run out of weed or whatever the hell they smoked. The darkness doesn't bother me, though. I know my way very well; since I spend more time walking in these streets than I spend at home.

Then something makes me stop walking. I turn my head to the side and push my hood down so there's nothing covering my ears. I can almost swear I heard something like a little shriek; but I can't tell what it was. I was about to shrug and just walk away when I hear it again. Without the hood covering my ears, I'm able to recognize it as someone's sobbing. I spin around for a few seconds, trying to find the source of the sound.

It takes me a while, but I finally find it. The sound comes from a nearby alleyway. I walk toward it; being careful and prepared to run if the sound turns out to be someone dangerous. Not that I'm scared to die. It's just that I just came back from my latest death this very morning, and I don't feel like dying again in the same day. I slowly walk over, making sure I'm in the shadows, and peek behind a wall.

I tilt my head in confusion when I see Butters. As in Butters Stotch, the most gullible boy in the whole school. He's sitting down on the dirty sidewalk, hugging his knees as he cries with his head down. I feel bad for him, but I can't help thinking how much of an idiot he is to be here. I don't know how he hasn't been killed yet. What is he doing here anyway?

I shake my head and shrug, starting to walk toward him. He doesn't seem to notice me; but I'm used to it. I get close enough to touch his shoulder, but all I do is look at him for a moment. I don't know why, but I feel my chest a little heavy. He is one of my friends and I don't like to see him like that. If I find that someone hurt him, I'll punch the person so hard in the face I'll probably hurt my knuckles. I don't feel like that when I see Stan, Kyle or Cartman sad, though. I feel sorry for them, but I don't feel protective over them like I'm feeling now. Well, it's probably because Butters is like a puppy that can't help himself.

I finally reach out and put my hand on his shoulder. He lets out a gasp and falls backwards in shock. It's enough to startle me too and I give a step back. He looks at me and tries to compose himself again; wiping the tears in his eyes with his sleeve. I can see he's embarrassed about crying as he avoids looking at me in the eye. I look around to make sure nobody's hearing or watching us before approaching him again.

"Butters." I say, trying to sound as calm as one can sound. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Ken? What are you d-doing here?" He ignores my question. I raise an eyebrow and point to over my shoulder with my thumb. "I sort of live right there, buddy. But you don't live around here, so what are you doing in this alleyway?" I say as I sit down by his side, making sure to leave enough space between us not to make this an awkward situation.

He looks at me for a second before looking down at the floor again. "Nobody remembers." He says with the volume just above that of a whisper. I tilt my head a second time that night. I know that feeling all too well; but I highly doubt he's upset that nobody remembers his deaths. I try to think, but nothing pops up in my mind. He looks at me one more time and I can see a spark of hope in his eyes. My chest feels heavy again when I shake my head and the hope in his eyes fades away.

"Kenny, what day is today?"

"Hum, September 11th? Actually, September 12th since it's past midnight already. "

"And...?" He says, motioning for me to complete the sentence. I look at him and then I look up again. I don't want to disappoint him a second time and try as hard as I can to remember. He couldn't be talking about the terrorism, could he? I mean, we had a ceremony at school today because of that. Nobody forgot about that. What else was there about yesterday?

 _Oh, wait._

"It was your birthday, wasn't it?"

He slowly nods, sighing. I feel my chest heavy again, but not like before. This time it feels like my heart was being pulled down by the heaviest chains Satan could ever use to pull someone's heart down.

"What about your parents? They surely remembered."

"They're traveling and didn't come back in time. I guess they just forgot it, too. Like everyone else. I'm not asking for a gift or anything, I just wanted someone to wish me a happy birthday." He wipes another tear. I don't know why, but I approach him and wrap my arms around his shaky shoulders. He shivers at my touch, but doesn't pull me away.

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

"Thank you." He mutters under his breath again.

"Happy late birthday, Butters." I pull away and look at him in the eyes. They're just so blue I can't help myself from thinking how beautiful they look. I mean, mine are blue too, but they don't shine like that.

"Thank you." He smiles back at me, putting his knuckles together as he always does when he's nervous. I think I see him blushing, even if I don't understand why. I stand up and reach out for him. It takes him a while, but he finally takes my hand and I help him to stand up.

"You shouldn't have come here, though. This place isn't very safe for someone who's not used to it. Come with me, I'll walk you home."

"Really?" He says, looking down.

"Really."

We start to walk side by side, until he stops and grabs my arm. He looks like a scared kid that lost their mother in the supermarket. "Would it be ok if I held your hand?"

I raise an eyebrow, but shrug. It's Butters we're talking about. "Sure." I watch as he moves his hand over to mine and entwines our fingers together. It makes me feel a little uncomfortable at first, but then I smile at it for some reason. I give his hand a gentle squeeze and start to walk again. The alleyway was getting darker by the second as we walked into it. I try to be calm; but I can't help it and my heart starts to beat faster. Being here at night is anything but a good idea.

"It's ok." I assure more to myself than to him. He just nods and holds my hand even tighter, using his other hand to hold my elbow. I suddenly stop when I hear something. The sound of steps. I unconsciously hold his hand tighter as I look around.

"Kenny?" He calls.

I look at him to reply, but before I can say anything a masked guy approaches us with a gun, causing me and Butters to both give a step back. _Shit_ ; I mentally curse. I raise my free hand, yet I refuse to release Butter's hand. "We don't have anything." I say, calmly, before the guy can even say anything. I feel Butters shaking as his tights the grip on my shoulder. With the corner of my eye, I see his face is all white; his eyes widening in fear.

"Kenny..." He mutters. I want to turn around and hug him to help him feel safe again, but I know moving now won't be a good decision.

"I said we don't have anything. Please, just let us go." I say, still with my hand up in the air.

"Is that so?" The guy says at last. I shiver when I notice the gun is pointed at Butters. I want to push him aside and shield him for some reason I can't really understand. I was about to give a step aside and cover him when things change abruptly. I don't even have time to process what's going on; before I can notice it I'm lying on the ground with a hole on my abdomen.

I see the guy running away like a scared baby when I start to process things. We heard the police car approaching; the guy freaked out and pulled the trigger before running. I'm not sure if I stepped in front of Butters or if the bullet was coming at me the whole time; but I think it was the prior. The burning pain I feel doesn't allow me to hear or see anything clearly for a while, until I take a deep breath and try to ignore it. I look up and see Butters looking down at me.

"Kenny! Kenny! Are you okay?" His hands are fluttering around me; I think he doesn't know what to do. It hurts to hear his voice sounding so raspy because of the tears he has in his eyes. I roll over so I'm lying on my back and make my best to sit up on my elbows. I look at the blood coming from me, and I know I'm going to die. I'm not scared, I'm just annoyed. But I feel sad. I know Butters won't remember this when he wakes up tomorrow; but I really wish he didn't have to see me like this.

"It's ok." I say, lying down again. The pain doesn't allow me to sit.

"D-Do you want me to t-take you to t-the hospital?" I smile a little at him. Always so innocent. Even if I wanted, it'd be no use. I would die on my way there. And more, there's no way he'd be able to carry me all the way to the hospital. I'm way taller, stronger and surely heavier than he is.

"No... It's ok, really." I say, my voice starting to get lower and lower. "Go home. It's late; there may be some other bad guys around here."

"I won't leave you here!" He says, laying his head down on my chest as tears run down his eyes. I've never seen anyone so sad in my whole life. "You can't leave me either! Please, Kenny! Be strong!"

"I will be just fine." I smile. "But I don't have much time. Please, go home." I don't know how I'll feel if I wake up tomorrow and find out that Butters died in my neighborhood.

"Kenny! You can't... You can't die! I... I love you!"

Ok, that last line surprises me. Despite the fact I'm almost passing out and away because of the lack of blood inside my body, I find enough strength to open my eyes and keep my mind as awake as one can be in my situation. "What?"

"Remember that time we went to Hawaii together?" He lets out a forced giggle. "And I said you were the only one I trusted and that you were my best friend? Well, there was... A little more to it. I love you, I always have. I never told you because I was afraid you would never feel the same about me, because I'm not a girl and I'm... I'm just me. But you can't leave!"

I don't have enough strength anymore. I want to sit up, take him in my arms and kiss him in those lips. But I can't.

"I love you too." I mutter, feeling that I'm out of blood by now. "It's ok. Happy late birthday, Butters."

I think he called me one more time, but I can't tell. I already have my eyes closed and can no longer hear what's going on around me. In my last breath, I beg God or whoever is hearing me that Butters gets home safely tonight. The last thing I saw was his teary eyes looking at me in despair, and the muffled echo of his voice telling me he loves me is still inside my head before I finally die again.

* * *

I look at my phone as I stand still on the doorway of Butter's house. It's September 13th, almost 5pm. It took me a little more than a day to come back from death this time, which I'm glad for. I don't want to leave Butters waiting alone any longer. If I know how my deaths work, he doesn't remember anything. He doesn't remember our talk, he doesn't remember I died; he probably doesn't even remember I found him yesterday. And he surely doesn't remember he confessed his love for me.

I didn't go to school today. I needed time to think, and nobody cares anyway. But then again, Butters cares, right? If he loves me, he cares for me. And I realize, maybe I love him too. No, I know I do. Maybe not as intense as he loves me, but I'll get there. I care for him. I love him. That's why I felt so protective over him; that's why I was so scared he was going to die that night. I'm not used to feeling this nervous, but I can literally feel my knees shaking and my hands are sweaty. It takes me two minutes to finally knock on the door.

I could feel my heart go all the way up my throat when he opened the door. I look into his deep blue eyes as I try not to look like a fool smiling, but I can't help it. I want to wrap my arms around him in the moment I see him, but I have to control myself. I don't want to ruin this moment.

"Oh, hey, Kenny. What's up?" He says, taking his hair off his eyes.

"Are your parents at home?" I ask, sounding a little more apprehensive and anxious than I meant to.

"Hum, no. Still traveling." He said, pouting a little. He probably remembered that they weren't here for his birthday.

"Can I come in, then?" He nods and moves over to make room for me. I enter the house and turn around to look at him as he closes the door and turns around as well. He puts his knuckles together and looks at me with a silly smile in his face. I wanted to hug him more than ever. I rub my hands together and take a deep breath. "I came to wish you a happy birthday. Sorry if I'm late."

His small smile grows bigger and his eyes sparkle when I say that. "You remembered!" I laugh at his expression. Nobody else would be this happy just because someone wished them a happy birthday, but Butters is just like that. I open my arms, inviting him for a hug. He blinks and frowns in confusion. I guess nobody expected someone like me to ask for a hug. I nod as in telling him it was alright. He approaches and slowly wraps his arms around me, burying his face in my chest as I rub his back.

"I'm sorry I don't have a gift for you..." I say, still with my arms around him.

"Hey, it's alright, Ken. It's more than alright. Thank you for remembering!"

"However, I still need to give you something." I say, pulling apart, but still with my arms around his waist to keep him close to me. He tilts his head and looks up at me, confused.

"What is it?"

"This." I move one hand over his face and hold his chin, keeping his head still as I lean forward to kiss him. When our lips touch, I feel all my doubts go away. Nothing had ever felt so right before; I just wanted to kiss him and never let him go. I don't know what his reaction is since I have my eyes closed, but I'm glad he doesn't pull away or anything. In fact he seems to relax after a few seconds.

I move my face away from his after a few seconds, but I don't open my eyes. I think I'm scared that when I do, I'll see rejection and he'll never talk to me again. I should have thought more about it, but now there's no going back. I take a breath and finally open my eyes.

The first thing I see is his blue eyes, staring straight back at me. I don't know what he's thinking, but I'd guess it's something between fear and confusion. I try to swallow the lump on my throat, but it doesn't go away.

"Butters, are you ok?" I say at last. His silence is freaking me out. I realize I still have my arms around his waist and he still has his arms around me as well. That's a good thing, right? If he hadn't liked the kiss, he would have released me already... Right?

"W-What was t-t-that, Ken?" He stutters, abruptly moving his head to look down and breaking eye contact. I loosen the grip I was giving him and give a small step back, giving him more space to breath.

"You didn't like it?" I say, my voice didn't come out as steady as I would have liked. Usually I'm a pretty calm guy and I'm able to keep handle of any situation, but I feel all my strength go away as I start to sweat and gulp. "I'm sorry if I…"

"I liked it." He mutters, still looking down. His cheeks start to get a deep red and he seems to be a little shaky. For the first time, I don't really know what to do or what to say; and I feel even worse when he looks up at me again. "B-But what was that?"

"Well, I… I believe that's what they usually call a kiss." I mentally slap myself as I force a giggle and a smile, failing to make the situation any less awkward.

"But why?" He keeps looking at me with pleading eyes. I sigh and tilt my head as I give him a hug, almost instinctively placing a light kiss on his right cheek. He's blushing so hard his skin feels warm as I put my lips next to his ear.

"Because I love you." I whisper.

"Really?" He asks as I straighten myself up again and look at his eyes. I notice that the corners of his lips seem to be shaky, almost as if he wanted to smile but was unsure if he should. "Love… Love me like…"

"I love you like a boyfriend." I laugh and say as I move my hand over to his head and playfully ruffle his hair before pressing my forehead against his. "I love you." I feel the lump in my throat return as I say the next words. "But… Do you love me?"

I get terrified as millions of possibilities come to my mind. What if he doesn't love me? What if he only said he did that night because I was dying and he didn't know what to do? When realization hits me, I find that I'll be heartbroken if he doesn't love me back. I hold my breath for God knows how long until he smiles.

"Yes. Yes, I do!" He jumps and wraps his arms around my neck, causing us to fall together on the couch behind me in a jumbled mess, he laying on top of me as we both laugh and hug each other.

I can't see my own face, but I swear that I'm blushing as much as he is. When we stop laughing at last, I run my fingers through his silky hair and put my hand on his chin, bringing his face closer to mine and kissing him again.

This time, he relaxes into it and returns the kiss. When we break away, I'm not afraid anymore. And I can tell he isn't either. I sit up with Butters on my lap and hug him again, never ever wanting to let go. I put my head on his shoulder and inhale. Damn it, I love the way he smells.

"Hey, Ken?" He says under his breath.

"Hum?"

"Weren't… Weren't you afraid of telling me you l-loved me?"

"A little. But not much. Because I knew you loved me back."

"You did? How?"

I smile a little more and shake my head as I kiss him on the neck and make him giggle. "I don't know. I think I always knew it somehow."

He smiles as he wraps his arms around my neck and smiles again. "This is the best birthday gift anyone has ever given to me, Ken."

"Happy late birthday, Butters." I smile as we close in for another kiss.

I never thought I'd say that, but for once, I'm really glad I died.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading, sorry for this.**

 **STYLE AND BUNNY FOREVER by the way.**

 **See yah next fic!**


End file.
